Through Falling Leaves and Ashen Snow
by MissCarrion
Summary: Harry fights himself over who he is, and finds confidence in an unlikely source. When the relationship blossoms, Harry finds he must fight to keep what he desperately needs. PLEASE NOTE: This fic ignores most of the events of the HBP.
1. Chapter 1

Harry lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Tiny floating lights danced before his eyes, and he sighed. He had never been so confused in all his life.

Grinding the heels of his hands into his eyelids, he sat up.

"I am a boy. Boys like girls. This is ridiculous, I know that. God, I am such a prat."

"Boys like girls," he reminded himself again. "Boys like girls, and don't like other boys. That's not how it works," he paused. "Then why the hell-"

"Harry?" Ron sat up and looked over at him.

"What are you talking about, mate? It's one in the morning, and you're the only one awake."

Harry was glad it was dark in the room, because he had just turned a colour that matched the maroon cardigan Mrs. Weasley had knitted him for Christmas the year before.

"Oh, nothing, Ron. Just talking to myself. Nothing important." He prayed that Ron would believe that.

"Are you sure?"

"_Damn," _ he thought. "Yeah, Ron, I'm all right. Night." He rolled over, and heard his friend sigh behind him.

"Alright then. Night."

Harry heard Ron turn over to face the wall; soft snores were discernable from that area of bedroom soon after.

"_Damn it," _he thought, this time careful to keep his mouth firmly shut. _"This is so stupid. Stop being such a bloody Hufflepuff." _Harry paused, stunned at how much he sounded like Malfoy just then. Oh, Malfoy, the reason for all these troubles. His soft, flowing hair, the way he talked, the way he walked...even the way he sucked his quill when he was thinking nearly did Harry in every time he saw it. Harry couldn't stand who he had fallen for, but he couldn't deny that he had fallen, spectacularly well. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just tell him. It would have been easier if it was Ron or Seamus, or someone like that. At least they were friends to begin with. And they were unlikely to hex him into oblivion. But it wasn't Ron or Seamus. It was Draco bloody Malfoy, the person who had hated him since school began, the person who was the poster-boy for pure-blood propaganda and muggle hatred. Harry _shouldn't_ like him, much less covet him like a randy school-girl.

Harry sighed, and rolled over. He would deal with all of this tomorrow. Right now, he wanted to sleep, and not have to think. Least of all, to think about the sex god he desired so badly, who snuck into his dreams so often.

The next day at breakfast, Harry was greeted a little too warmly by Hermione. He knew that Ron had said something about what he had heard the night before. How much had he heard? Ron was acting odd too. Harry couldn't put his finger on what was up with Ron, but he wished he knew.

The three ate their breakfast without any mention of the previous night. It would have been silent, if not for Hermione's standard comments about the lack of her friends' study habits.

"You boys really should start studying more – we are in our last year! You need to think about your futu-" She stopped abruptly, but not quite catching herself in time. The future was one thing that Harry was not prepared to talk about, with anyone.

"I might head to class," he said, standing from the table. He grabbed the last piece of toast off his plate, and left.

Ron shot Hermione a dirty look. "Why'd you have to mention the future, 'Mione?"

She sighed. "I didn't mean to. I wish Sirius was still here for him; Harry wasn't so afraid of what is to come when he could talk to him."

"_Why the hell is this happening?" _Harry walked along the corridor, his gait a picture of calm compared to how he felt inside. "_Damn,_" he thought to himself. "_I __need someone to talk to about this...stuff with Malfoy. I just don't know who."_

Usually, he would have talked to Sirius, but...Harry let his thoughts trail off there, and he rounded the corner to Potions. Half the class was there in the corridor. He remembered the test that Snape had scheduled many days before. He groaned, pulled out his book, and then desperately tried to study all he could in the extra ten minutes before class. Malfoy entered the corridor behind him, and sneered mercilessly at him.

"I see someone forgot to study. Such a pity that, isn't it, Potter?" he asked with such venom that Harry for a moment forgot why he was so infatuated with him. Then he glanced at Malfoy, and it all came flooding back. The soft hair, the cold grey eyes, with silver swimming in their depths. Harry swallowed, and made no return remark.

Snape rounded the corner not a moment later, and smiled in the most wicked of manners.

"Books away. I will give you quills from the class set. Can't have any of you cheating, can we, Mr. Potter?" he said slyly, looking Harry up and down and finally letting his eyes rest on the open textbook in Harry's hands. "Now really, Mr. Potter, I can see no point in that. If you were ever going to learn anything, I would have assumed that you would learn the school rules before attempting my Potions class. Although, your father never did – I suppose we could put it down to bad genetics," he said with a nasty smirk. "I shall certainly enjoy explaining to the Headmaster that you have failed my class again, I might add."

His robes sweeping impressively behind him, Snape entered the classroom, nodding to Malfoy as he did so.

"Draco."

"Professor."

Harry glared at Snape's back, but silently went to his seat, deciding that there was little point in trying to argue with him – he would, without fail, remove House-points, and Harry had lost enough of those so far this year. Glancing down at the test in front of him, Harry had very little clue what he was reading. He read through a little further, and found a section on lacewing flies and their uses in modern medicinal potion making. Harry felt a little more relieved. He had studied medicinal potion making recently, as that area of the subject interested him greatly.

Having completed the section on the lacewing flies, he read through the test's other questions, to see whether there were any other questions that he could answer. He found a couple, and answered them as best he could. With his mind in as much turmoil over the Malfoy situation, it was hard to concentrate on a subject he cared for so little. Glancing over to the Slytherin side of the room, he saw Draco scribbling on what appeared to be his third piece of parchment. Harry sighed. Draco had always loved Potions, so it wasn't all that surprising that he wrote a lot in his answers.

Harry watched Draco now. He had a tendency to put his tongue out the side of his mouth just a little when he wrote. Harry found this to be incredibly cute. He looked back down at his own paper, and sighed. He just didn't know what he was going to do. He desperately wanted to talk to someone, but he didn't think that he could bring it up to Ron, or to Hermione.

After a moment, Snape looked up.

"Accio papers!" He called out over the dungeon.

Every test flew to his desk, and fell neatly into alphabetical order. He then dismissed the class, and Harry saw Hermione beginning to walk towards him. He thought quickly – it was either have to talk to Hermione, or get a detention to avoid her-

_CHRASH!_

A bowl of snake fangs fell from the shelf that Harry had inadvertently walked into in his quest to avoid Hermione and her possible questioning. Well, at least now he didn't have to find a reason for a detention...

Snape glared at Harry from his desk.

"Potter, stay behind and clean that up. Scrub the cauldrons while you are at it."

Harry sighed with relief, and Snape caught him doing so. He glanced at him, and smiled in his evilest manner.

"And after that Potter, I would like a word with you."

Harry cringed as he heard this. That could be bad. Very bad. More than likely some matter of the conversation would reach the people he didn't want it to. He nodded carefully, and began to gather up the fangs. "_Just as long as he doesn't try to magic anything out of me. That would be disastrous."_


	2. Chapter 2

After the half hour it took Harry to finish cleaning the cauldrons, Snape had finished grading the papers. He sneered at Harry over the pile, watching him dry the last cauldron with a tea towel.

"Good, Mr. Potter. I want a word with you."

Harry gulped, walked over to Snape's desk, and stood before it. He aimed to stay as calm as possible, and hoped like hell that Snape wouldn't ask anything too probing.

"Is there any particular reason why you _tried_ to get a detention with me? It seems like a rather… peculiar thing to do, don't you think?"

Harry tried his best not to turn a vivid shade of purple, but he was mostly unsuccessful. Snape appeared to smile at this, which disturbed Harry.

"Mr Potter, I do expect an answer. Why did you-"

"I didn't try to get a detention, Professor," Harry growled.

"Mr Potter, tell me what's happening, or I may decide to involve the Headmaster in this. Tell me what's going on."

Snape did sound serious, but Harry truly didn't think that it was anywhere near Snape's right to hear about this situation. Harry stood his ground, and glared back at his Potions professor.

"This is none of your business, Professor, so since I have finished the tasks you gave me for detention, am I allowed to return to the common room?"

Snape looked him over. "Fine, Mr. Potter, you may return to your common room. But I expect you to return tomorrow night to clean the cauldrons again-" He paused, expecting Harry to sigh, but Harry stayed quiet.

Harry left the dungeons, and went to the common room. He finished a History of Magic essay that was due the period after. It wasn't a hard essay, just tedious. He also had the sneaking suspicion that Professor Binns wouldn't have noticed if he had forgotten to hand it in.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Transfigurations went without a hitch, if except for the fact that Harry couldn't help glancing back towards where Malfoy was sitting. Harry rather enjoyed the subject, so was able to concentrate on it with some effort.

Hermione decided to study through lunch, so Harry and Ron went to sit outside, to avoid being dragged into the library with her. Ron spent most of lunch talking about how incredibly boring Divination was; he had taken the class over Ancient Runes, but was beginning to regret his decision.

"At least if I had taken Runes I could sit with Hermione for the answers. Its alright being able to just make up things for Divination, but it gets boring eventually. We get the same thing every day – I see death and despair in your future, beware, oooooooo!" He crossed his eyes and flapped his hands at Harry, who just shook his head.

"Ron, we told you not to take that class; it was never going to be interesting."

Ron sighed, and they finished their lunch. They had Charms next, so both headed to class.

Quidditch practice that afternoon had to be cancelled, because the Ravenclaw team was several members short after a Charms accident, and Harry preferred to have the team practice full force against another team. The Gryffindor team was disappointed, but Harry kept the pitch booked for any members who wanted to practice.

Deciding that he didn't feel like dinner, Harry headed straight to the common room without heading to the Great Hall. His friends would be concerned, but not overly worried. He hoped. He figured he would just go to bed, and hope that his friends would assume he wasn't feeling well.

When Harry arrived at the dormitories they were empty, and so he changed into his pyjamas and hopped into bed, but he didn't close the curtains behind him. Grabbing his Potions text book from his bag, he settled into studying the test material that he hadn't been able to answer earlier that day.

After half an hour or so the dormitory door opened, and Ron's familiar face peered around it.

"Harry! Here you are. Hermione was worried sick as to where you were," he said with a grin and came into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, sorry I wasn't at dinner," Harry said apologetically. "I wasn't feeling that well, so decided to just come to bed."

Ron glanced at him, but didn't mention that it was particularly odd for Harry to miss dinner. Instead, he studied Harry's face for a few minutes, then spoke.

"You know you can talk to me, right, Harry?" Harry looked up at him, surprised. "I just mean, if there is anything you need to talk about, I will always be here for you, okay?" Ron looked uncomfortable, and Harry smiled at him.

"I know, Ron. Things have just been a little...odd for me recently. But I will work it out, don't worry."

Ron looked at him, and smiled, only the barest touch of sadness flickering over his lips. Still it was enough for Harry to see it.

"_I am so sorry, Ron. I just don't know whether I can talk to you about this yet,"_ Harry thought to himself, before grinning at Ron. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

Ron nodded, before taking his own pyjamas out of his trunk. Harry politely closed the drapes around his bed, and went to sleep.

The next morning the trio met in the common room as usual, then headed down to breakfast together. As they walked into the Great Hall, Malfoy appeared, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"So," Malfoy sneered, "I hear from Professor Snape that only one of you three passed yesterday's test. Tsk, not very good now is it? At least you had the decency to try all the questions, Weasley – Potter here only answered half of them! How unfortunate. And, of course, Granger. You got top marks, as always. Some would say you had some sort of teacher/student fetish, with how often you kiss up to the staff." He laughed, cruelly. Hermione glared at him.

"Go suck some cock, Malfoy," she said angrily, and sauntered over to the Gryffindor table. Malfoy had visibly stiffened at the comment, and Harry couldn't tell who was more shocked, Ron or Malfoy. He grinned, and grabbed Ron by the arm.

"Come on, let's go," he said, and dragged him over to the table.

As they sat down, Hermione stabbed angrily at her porridge.

"I hate him. So. Damn. Much." With each word she stabbed harder at the cereal, and Harry was concerned she would break the plate.

Whispers began to fill the air around them, and when Harry looked up, Professor Snape was standing opposite him, looking like his usual bleak and twisted self.

"Mr. Potter. I have decided that because of your insolence at your last detention, you will serve a lunchtime detention today, as well as the pre-arranged one after class. Be on time, or I will add a third one to the list," he said with a slight grin. Harry sighed.

"Yes, Professor."

Snape walked away, and Ron turned to Harry.

"What the hell, mate? You don't have to just take that from him!"

"What else can I do?" Harry asked bleakly. "I can't exactly refuse a detention."

"Harry is right, Ron," Hermione interjected, "at least Harry had the good sense not to argue. Sadly this will mean that our study date will have to be cancelled..." She started to flick through the diary she carried. "Would tomorrow lunch suit you both?" She looked up to see Harry and Ron's backs quickly retreating out the doors.

"Boys," she sighed, and continued her breakfast.

Harry's morning classes were uneventful, and when lunch came around Ron put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Harry. Hope he isn't too hard on you."

Harry nodded, and with heavy footsteps headed off to the dungeons.

Not far from the Potions classroom, Harry hear a short laugh from behind him, and turned to see Malfoy watching him from a doorway. Harry's heart nearly stopped. He had rehearsed something like this in his mind for months. Somehow these scenes always ended with he and Draco making out.

"_Merlin,"_ Harry suddenly thought. _"I just called him _Draco._"_

"So, Potter, been up to no good again, have we?" Draco smirked, and Harry went a little weak at the knees.

"Shove off, Draco," Harry said, without thinking.

"_Draco_? Since when were we on first name terms? Sounds like someone has a crush!" Draco laughed, and then stopped abruptly.

"Whether Mr. Potter has a crush on you or not, Mr. Malfoy, he is due in detention with me, and I suggest you head to lunch before your goons eat it all," Snape said from behind Harry. Draco nodded, and left without another word.

Harry hoped like hell that the colour had drained from his cheeks; he had become rather flustered at Draco's mention of a crush.

"Why so pink, Potter?" Snape asked slyly. Harry turned to glare at him.

"I thought this was a detention, not an interrogation," Harry snapped back.

"Don't be so insolent, Potter. Clean the cauldrons out. I will find you something else to do after class this evening," Snape said, sweeping into his office.

Once he was gone, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been disastrous for Snape to find out what was going through his head. Although, he probably owed the Professor a favour, after saving him from the possibility that Draco would find out about the feelings being harboured for him.

It took nearly all of lunch to finish the cauldrons. When he had finished, his fingernails were black, and he was covered in all manner of dirt. He didn't bother to go tell Snape he was finished, he just left. He needed to go have a shower and change before his next class. Thus, he left and headed up to the common room. Hermione was waiting for him.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked, smiling at him.

"Yeah, just need to take a shower before next class – I am filthy after cleaning those cauldrons again."

"Does that mean you don't have detention tonight?" Hermione said hopefully, "We could study if you didn't."

Harry, oddly enough, was more interested in another boring study session with Hermione over detention, but that couldn't help the fact that he hadn't gotten out of the evening's detention. He shook his head.

"Oh, that is a shame," she said. "Why don't you use the prefects' bathroom to shower?" she asked. Harry was grateful of the offer, and agreed. She walked him down, and then followed him in.

Harry spluttered. "Hermione, I am planning on taking a _shower_ here," he said uncomfortably. She shrugged.

"Oh, come off it, Harry. It isn't like I am going to look – it means that we can talk before class without people interrupting us," she said, and spelled the door to say 'In Use'. Harry sighed, and moved to one of the cubicles and went inside. He stripped off, dropping his clothes over the door, and turned the shower on. He let the hot water pound against his back, a calming massage to remove some of the tension that had settled there.

"I assume," he heard Hermione's voice over the flow of the water, "that you would like me to spell your clothes clean, as you don't have a spare set?"

Harry put his head in his hands. He had completely forgotten about that.

"Uh, yeah Hermione, thanks," he said.

"You have been acting very odd lately, Harry," she said in-between the incantations as she spelled his clothes clean. "Is there something going on with you that you don't want to talk to Ron or I about?"

Harry ran his hand back through his hair, letting the water rinse out the dirt that had managed to get lodged there. "No, Hermione, everything is fine," he said, hoping she believed him.

She didn't.

"It just seems that you have been acting very differently lately. I know you haven't talked to Ron about it either, because I asked. You know you can talk to us, about anything, right?"

"Hermione, I know," Harry said, if only a little more exasperated than he meant to. "I have had a lot of stuff on my plate lately, and it is just meaning that I am a little quieter than usual – don't worry." He stopped, before quickly adding, "I won't hesitate to tell you if something is wrong."

Hermione smiled. "Good," she said. "Now, you need to get out, class starts soon."

Harry heard the flick of her wand, and suddenly the shower water went cold.

"Gyargh! Hermione!" Harry cried out, and leapt from the stream of water. "That wasn't very fair." He stepped out of the cubicle. Hermione was facing the other way, and there was a towel waiting for him. He could tell from the way that she stood that she was laughing. "You are a cruel woman, Hermione Granger," Harry said, and got into his clothes. Once he was dressed, she turned to look at him.

Before she could speak, he pulled her into a hug. "I know I can talk to you, Hermione, don't worry." he said gently. She put her arms around him, and they stood like that for a moment before pulling apart. "Come on," he said. "We had better get to class."

The Potions lesson itself went along without a hitch, except for the standard quips from Snape about Harry's lack of skill in his subject, and other points about his general lack of ability. The comments slid off Harry like water off a duck's back – he had heard them all before countless times, so he spent most of the lesson gazing across the room at Draco. He looked gorgeous today, his hair was sitting perfectly, as usual, and he had on a gorgeous deep green jersey, that made his hair shine like pure light. He was so engrossed in staring at Draco that he didn't notice Snape walking towards him.

"_He really is gorgeous,"_ Harry thought, _"I wonder what it would be like to take him on the desk?" _Harry let his mind wander into that fantasy.

Snape glanced at Harry, and followed his gaze. After a moment he slapped Harry's marked test onto the desk. Harry jumped.

"Mind somewhere else, Potter?" he said coldly. "Perhaps it is where your mind was when you attempted this test. I am taking twenty points from Gryffindor for your complete lack of study." He paused, thinking. "You will serve double detention tonight, as punishment for this obvious insolence." Hearing the angry whispers from the rest of the Gryffindors, Snape wheeled around. "Anyone who wants to protest will lose ten house points, and join Potter for detention." The whispers subsided quickly, and Snape smiled. "I am pleased to see that your housemates have more brains than you, Potter. Dismissed," he said forcefully, and the class began to file out.

Hermione gave Harry's arm a squeeze as she and Ron walked past.

"See you upstairs later, Harry," Ron said, as he left the room.

Harry stood motionless by his desk, waiting for Snape to give him his task. Snape just sat and looked at him for a while.

"Well, Mr. Potter, are you going to explain?" Snape said, finally. Harry looked at him, confused. "Mr. Potter, you do realise that it is incredibly rude not to answer a question when asked, do you not?"

"I do not understand your question, Professor," Harry said sharply.

"Tsk, Mr. Potter, no need to be so quick to answer. You know what I mean. Intentionally getting detention is what I am asking about. You never explained it to me yesterday, so I am waiting." Snape smiled at him cruelly.

"Professor, it isn't any of your business," Harry said curtly, and as politely as he could muster.

"Oh, Potter, I do believe that this is exactly my business. I would like to know when you decided that it was acceptable to waste my time by intentionally causing problems." Snape took two quick steps around his desk, and stood directly in front of Harry. "Tell me, now, Potter, the reason for your wastage of my time, before I explain to the Head-master why I feel it is necessary for your Quidditch privileges to be, how to say it, discontinued?" Snape smirked.

Harry glared at the Potions master. This was plain and utter blackmail. Snape had placed Harry between a rock and a hard place; between loyalty to his House, and his own, if only marginally intact, pride.

"Today would be nice, Potter."

Harry glared again. "I really do not want to discuss this, Professor."

Snape glanced at the clock.

"Oh, bloody Hell in a cauldron; don't say I didn't warn you," Harry said in a rather irate tone. "I like boys, alright? To be more specific, one particular boy. For Merlin's sake!" Harry said with anger, and sat down at the desk he was at. Glaring at the woodwork, Harry was almost certain that Snape had slipped something into his pumpkin juice at lunch.

Snape looked at him in shock. "Potter, why on _earth_ are you telling _me_ this?"

Harry's gaze shot up to look Snape in the eyes. "You complete and utter _prat_! You _forced me to_!" Harry glared at him. Snape brought his hand up and massaged his left temple. Harry let his head drop forward into his hands.

"I presume, then, that it is not a simple particular person then?" Snape asked, and Harry sighed, admitting defeat.

"No, it isn't simple." He kept his head in his hands.

Snape pulled a chair over and sat down. Harry was shocked that Snape did this, but did not show it outwardly.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume?"

Harry glanced up, but didn't say anything more than a noncommittal grunt.

"Ah," Snape said, and paused. "Firewhiskey?" he asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I certainly need a drink after that revelation, Potter. You are of age, and my parents always taught me to offer my guests drinks if I was having some." Snape looked at him.

"Yeah, why not?" Harry said finally. Snape summoned a bottle of the spirit, and two shot glasses. He poured them, and handed one to Harry. They both downed the shot simultaneously. Snape poured them each another.

"So," Harry said. "You drink with students often?"

Snape shot him a quick glare. "No, I only drink after extreme shock or stress, Potter." He sipped the whiskey. "By Merlin, Potter, of all the people you could pick, it had to be my godson."

Harry wasn't surprised by the fact that Snape was Draco's godson, it seemed rather obvious now that he thought about it, because of the obvious favourites that Snape played.

"Professor, not that this isn't...nice, couldn't you just give me some cleaning to do for detention? I don't think that I will get drunk enough to start pouring out my feelings to you," Harry said, then suddenly eyed his shot glass suspiciously.

"Don't be so dense, Potter, it is completely illegal for me to use Veritaserum on a student. And, unfortunately for you, I cannot just ignore what I have found out. I guess you haven't told Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger? It would make sense as to why you seemed so desperate to avoid Miss Granger." He paused.

"They have first names, you know," Harry said wearily. He wasn't even going to argue with Snape, there wasn't any point. Now that Snape knew, he would tell Draco, and the entire school would know by morning.

"Mr. Potter, really, you think that little of me?" Snape said, feigning hurt feelings. "I am not going to mention this to Draco. Although I am surprised to hear you call him that." Snape trailed off.

"Bloody Occlumency," Harry said it aloud – there wasn't any point in thinking it, Snape would hear anyway. Snape chuckled. This concerned Harry.

"Potter, my Occlumency is the least of your worries. Right now, I would be worried about the fact that I know what you were thinking about in class today. Those desks aren't as comfortable as you would want to think."

Harry coloured. "You didn't...oh, Hell," he said, and dropped his head onto the desk with a bang.

"I must say, you have a very vivid imagination, Mr. Potter. You should probably stop thinking things like that in my presence, or I may vomit," Snape said dryly. Harry sighed.

"Are you just keeping me here to torture me for your own amusement?" Harry asked finally.

Snape looked at him, and sighed. "No, Potter, I am waiting for you to talk about this. You have spent the past few weeks with the constant thought of 'Who should I talk to' running through your brain – your thoughts sound like a broken record. It is infuriating me. So, talk." Snape said with finality.

Harry stared at him. "Professor, no offense, but you are the _last_ person I am likely to open my heart up to."

"I know. I am also the only person who will ever be able to get you and Draco in a room together where he won't curse you six ways from Sunday. Talk," Snape said again, with the same finality as before.

Harry sighed. "I don't know what there is to talk about," he said finally. "I don't know why I like him. I like girls, I always have."

"Yes, I have heard of your reputation." Snape interrupted. Harry glared at him. "Come now, Potter, the entire school knows about you and your conquests, it isn't just me." Snape thought for a moment, "Although I suppose I am the only teacher who could actually look into those memories..." he trailed off, and looked at Harry.

"Alright!" Harry said quickly, "I will talk. Just don't go snooping into my memories, particularly not _that_ kind of memory. I don't know where to start..."

Harry sat silently for a long time, before downing his second shot. "I don't know why I am in love with him, but I am," he said finally, and then immediately regretted it.

"In love?" Snape looked at Harry, more surprise showing on his face than he would have liked. "Good God, Potter, you two have been enemies for years! How has that gone to 'in love'?"

Harry shrugged. "Fuck if I know," he said. Snape frowned. "Sorry, Professor," Harry began, before Snape cut him off.

"I don't care what language you use, Potter. This is a private conversation, with alcohol. I can't expect perfect behaviour, can I?" He paused. "Look, can I speak openly?" He looked at Harry.

"You are running this detention; go for your life." Harry looked at his Professor, confused as to what would come next.

"Be careful who you talk to about this, Potter. The Wizarding world is a lot more open than the Muggle one, and while there are not as many problems with same sex relationships, the Wizarding community at large still believes in House separation throughout peoples entire lives, not just their school ones. Hufflepuffs become Healers, Ravenclaws researchers, Gryffindors join the Ministry, and Slytherins sit around looking pretty and serving the Dark Lord. Barring teachers, obviously. I don't know what either of them would think, especially considering that Miss Granger is from the Muggle side of things. I cannot guarantee that she isn't in the less open of Muggle beliefs."

"Her name is Hermione," Harry snapped.

Snape smiled wearily. "Potter, what you do in your time is your own business. As this involves my godson, I must make myself more involved than I would like. I cannot have you attempting to start a conversation with him and having you balls it up. That would be disastrous for all three of us."

Harry glanced at Snape. "All three of us? How exactly would it affect you?"

Snape swirled the liquid in his glass. "I might be mandated to take points from my own house, which would be rather unfortunate," he said, and took the shot whole, before pouring another.

"_Only stress drinking, my arse,"_ Harry thought. _"That is his fifth shot."_

"Potter, my drinking is none of your concern," Snape retorted. Harry glanced at him, and sighed. It probably wasn't his business, but it didn't mean he wasn't a little worried.

"Worried about?" Snape asked, looking at Harry, who sighed.

"Stop doing that. It's rude," he said, before continuing, "I worry about what I want to."

"Even teachers you hate?" Harry looked at Snape. Well, he couldn't hate him now. Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Harry downed the last of the whiskey, and put the glass down.

"Potter, tomorrow I want you to forget your book after class. Don't realise until all the students have left, then come back to get it. I want to talk again, but if this detention goes any later it will become increasingly hard to explain away."

Snape stood, and with a wave of his wand the whiskey and glasses disappeared. "Good night, Mr. Potter."

Harry left the office as quickly as he could.

When he returned to the common room, Hermione and Ron were waiting up for him. As Hermione hugged him, she stiffened suddenly.

"Harry James Potter, you smell like Firewhiskey!" she said, in what everyone called her 'Molly Weasley voice'. Harry groaned inwardly.

"Don't worry – Snape had me clean the classroom, and I found a bottle under his desk. I had a few mouthfuls, thats all, I swear!" Hermione looked him up and down, then seeming pleased with this answer, pulled him over to the table where she and Ron were studying, and pushed some textbooks towards him. Harry sighed. At least if they were studying, questions would not be asked. There weren't, and the three of them turned in a few hours later.


	3. Chapter 3

After Harry left the dungeons, Snape summoned back the bottle of whiskey, and both glasses. At 10pm on the dot, a knock rang out across the room, and the door opened. Draco was wearing plain black pants and a shirt of the same hue, with what appeared to be slippers on his feet. He greeted the room's only occupant warmly.

"Severus," he smiled, and walked towards him. Severus stood, and embraced Draco.

"Draco, excellent – I thought that you might have forgotten," Severus said warmly.

Draco looked at the older man with shock. "Severus, I never forget! You know that. Ah, I see you started without me," Draco said, indicating the whiskey bottle.

"As always," Severus smiled, a genuine smile that very few had seen, and transfigured two desks into armchairs, and a third into a coffee table. He placed the bottle and glasses on it, and offered Draco a seat, which he took gratefully. Severus poured the whiskey, and handed Draco a glass.

"Long day?" Draco inquired, indicating the amount of liquid in the bottle.

"You could say that," Severus said, easing himself into a chair, and sighing. He sipped his drink, and then looked across at the young man before him.

"Draco." The blonde looked up at him. "Draco, I must ask, when was the last time you had sex?" Draco choked on a sip of the whiskey, and sat spluttering for a moment or two.

"My, Severus, you are forward tonight. Not in a while, like yourself I assume," he said cheekily, causing the older man to colour slightly. "Come now, Severus, you can't expect to ask questions like that without me asking them back. But yes, it has been a while. I mean, I could snap my fingers and Parkinson would be on her knees in a second, but she isn't exactly a peach," he paused. Severus took this as his time to strike.

"Have you ever considered the other side of the pitch?" he asked casually. It was Draco's turn to colour then.

"I may have...What difference does it make to you?" he asked sharply.

"Draco, I was only asking out of curiosity. You know that I do not hold the same stance on that as other's may," Severus did not need to mention whom he spoke of, but Draco did.

"I know you are not like my father, Severus, but I can't help but worry that even thinking about admitting that would mean he would find out. Though, I suppose, just between you and I, yes, of course I have considered it. My year has a particularly good crop of male specimens, I must say," Draco finished, with a slightly too knowing look.

Severus left the comment, and the look, hanging. "So, if you were to pick someone, what features would you go for?" Severus asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Draco thought for a while. "Well, I like dark hair, having had so much of blonde for all my life. And I would want someone who plays Quidditch, I like the definition it creates. And I wouldn't want anyone too well built, I don't want to get crushed...and tall. I like tall." Draco stopped to think again.

"So, Zabini then?" Severus asked.

"That man-whore?" Draco laughed, but it was an affectionate laugh. "Never, Severus. No, I don't know, but not Zabini."

"He will be so disappointed," Severus laughed, and then put down his glass. "It is probably time you returned to bed, Draco."

Draco nodded, and stood, placing his glass down on the table. The men hugged tightly, and Severus left the lightest of kisses atop the blonde's head. "Good night, Draco, sleep well."

"Good night, Severus," Draco said, and slipped out the door.

All in all, Severus was rather pleased with himself.

Harry moved through the next day pretty much in a daze. He had woken up late, and missed breakfast. His classes all that morning were uneventful, and the final one of the morning, as always, was Potions. He arrived early, to his friends' surprise, and they all filed in.

Snape put a list of pages in their text book that he wanted them to read and copy out the important facts from, so the class sat in silence. Harry's mind began to wander, and he glanced over to the Slytherin side of the room. Draco was wearing a high turtleneck in a deep grey, which set against his hair very well. His lips curved with intent concentration. Those lips, which Harry so wanted to kiss. With that thought in his mind, he looked back around the classroom, to notice Snape looking at him. Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry blushed sheepishly, and went back to writing his notes.

When class ended, Harry made sure that he was last to pack up and leave, so that no one would collect his textbook for him. Then he left with Hermione and Ron. Once they reached the main hallway, he stopped, and started to rummage through his bag.

"Damn," he said aloud.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I've left my bloody text book down there. You guys go on, I will be back in a second," he said, before turning on his heel and leaving before they could protest.

When he reached the dungeons, the door was still ajar, so he walked in. Snape was at his desk, reading.

"How long will it be until they start to wonder why you aren't back?" Snape asked without looking up.

"I probably have some time to stay. They don't have the highest opinions of you after all, so they would expect that you would keep me for a lecture or something," Harry replied truthfully.

Snape looked up, and waved Harry into a chair by his desk. Harry took it, with only a little hesitation.

"I have good news," Snape said, again without looking up. "I inquired of Draco last night as to whether he flew your side of the pitch." Harry's mouth dropped open.

"You said you weren't going to talk to him!" Harry felt utterly betrayed, and he couldn't quite tell why.

"Don't be so dramatic, Potter," Snape said, and put his book down. "I am his godfather – we discuss these sorts of things normally. I asked in a way that was purely for my own interest. He certainly seems to not be adverse to the idea. Oh, and he likes tall guys with dark hair, who play Quidditch," Snape said, if only a little triumphantly.

Harry looked down into his hands, and didn't say anything. Snape looked at him.

"Come now, Potter, what is wrong? Surely this news pleases you?"

Harry looked up at Snape, who was concerned to see tears forming in Harry's eyes. _"Oh no,"_ thought Snape_. "Stupid Gryffindors and their emotions. I don't need to have to deal with his feelings..."_

"It is all well and good, Professor, but once he finds out it is me, he will never even consider it..." Harry trailed off, and looked down at his knees. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, but Snape could see that it wasn't doing all that much good.

"_Oh god,_" Harry thought inwardly. _"Now I am going to cry. Great, just great."_

Slowly, Snape reached out, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Harry sniffed, and Snape realised that the student sitting next to him was crying more. Snape sighed, and put his arm around Harry, and pulled him close.

"Potter, don't worry so much. Draco isn't a complete prick...okay, he can be, but he isn't always. He is oddly sentimental and sensitive when it comes to relationships, so I am sure that he won't just throw your feelings back in your face. Come on now, its alright," Snape gave Harry another gentle squeeze.

"Do you mind if I come back later?" Harry asked quietly once the tears had stopped. Snape looked down at him.

"If you wish. Perhaps an unofficial detention? Something your friends will believe," he said with a slight smirk. "I will see if I can get Draco to come, if you want?"

Harry shifted slightly, but did not pull away from Snape entirely. He enjoyed the feeling of a protective arm around him, even if he was completely mortified at whom it belonged to. "I suppose. I am not certain about what will happen," he said finally.

Snape gave his shoulder a squeeze, then moved away. Harry sat up, and wiped his eyes again. Snape silently summoned a cold flannel, and passed it to Harry, who wiped his face. The cool water settled his features, so he did not appear to have been crying. Once Harry had successfully cleaned his face, he got up, grabbed his book from the table, and put it in his bag.

"Come back here around 8pm tonight, alright, Potter? Draco usually doesn't come to say goodnight until 10pm, so we will have time to...chat before then, in case you decide you don't want to talk to him." Snape hadn't looked at him, and Harry knew that he probably felt as damn awkward as he himself did.

"See you later then, Professor," Harry said as he left the room.

Snape slumped back into his chair, and sighed. The fact that he would do anything for Draco, including comforting Harry Potter, was something he had not wanted to have to realise then. He sighed heavily. It was going to be a very long day.

By the time that Harry managed to get back to the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione had all but finished their lunch, and both looked up sympathetically.

"Was he unimpressed to see you back again?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I have detention again tonight. He said that I wasn't paying attention in class today, so I have to go back at 8pm for make-up work," Harry said flawlessly. It was a lie that both his friends would easily believe.

His friends tried to cheer him up as best he could, but he seemed much worse than they had seen him in some time. When they confronted him about it between afternoon classes, he shrugged them off, saying it was just to do with having so little time for himself due to the detentions and study. They weren't certain that this was the reason, but there wasn't much they could do if he didn't want to talk.

Harry was relieved that he had History of Magic for both classes that afternoon, as it meant that he would be able to sit and think during them. The other bonus was that Draco didn't take History of Magic, so Harry wasn't distracted by him.

Ron scribbled something on a piece of paper, and passed it to Harry.

_You don't seem yourself. What's up?_

Harry sighed, and looked at Ron. Ron looked truly concerned, but Harry just couldn't admit anything to him about what had happened. He was deeply ashamed of what had happened earlier in the day with Snape, and didn't know how he was going to face him that afternoon.

Harry wrote back that it was nothing, and planned to leave it at that. It seemed Ron had other plans.

_Come on, Harry. I'm not blind, or stupid. I can clearly see something is wrong._

Harry turned to his friend, and gave him a withering stare. "Just leave it, Ron," Harry whispered.

"No," Ron replied, whispering as forcefully as he could. "Why won't you just talk to me about it?"

Harry rolled his parchment up, and threw it into his bag with his quill. "I don't have to tell you everything, you know," he said bitterly, before storming out of the classroom.

Ron sat, watching his friend's back retreat out of the room.

Dinner came and went. Harry didn't eat all that much, as his appetite had fallen drastically over the last couple of days. Hermione tried to get him to eat more than what he did, and he snapped at her, then left the Great Hall feeling guilty. Sometimes he wondered why she seemed to be able to read him so well.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Snape behind him. Once Harry turned around, the hand fell away.

"Perhaps detention would be best served a little earlier than planned?" Snape asked quietly, and Harry nodded.

Both men were still a little uncertain after the day's earlier events, which was understandable. Once they reached the dungeons, Snape lead Harry to his office, as opposed to the classroom.

Having both sat down, Snape summoned the whiskey, and they sat in silence sipping it for a while.

"I'm sorry," Harry said finally. Snape looked up at him.

"About what, Potter?" The inflection on Harry's surname was no longer cruel or stern, as it used to be from Snape; it was just a name now, it seemed. Harry didn't reply, so Snape continued. "I understand that things have been very hard for you since you lost Sirius, Potter. You have lost someone you were very close to, and cared about a great deal. I know it is not the same, but I know that I would be in a lot worse of a state if I lost Draco." He stopped, and looked at Harry. For the first time, Snape saw through the toughened outer image that Harry portrayed – the charismatic, collected and light-hearted young man was gone, and it had been replaced with a cautious, scared, and lonely young boy, who didn't have anyone to turn to. He reminded Snape so very much of someone close to him.

"I know, Professor," Harry continued quietly, "but that doesn't excuse my...behaviour earlier..." Harry trailed off.

Snape sighed. "Potter, don't worry. I have no intention of mentioning that to anyone, least of all for your pride. It won't exactly look fantastic for my reputation either, what with me being the personification of all evil."

"_Not to me,"_ Harry thought to himself. He was still more than a little stunned at how...well Snape was handling this. Least of all as Draco's godfather, Harry also had to admit. Snape was becoming more and more...friendly with Harry, and Harry wasn't sure of much, but he was sure of one thing. He didn't want it to stop.

Snape looked over at Harry, who was still looking at his knees, and spoke.

"Potter," Snape started, but didn't continue his sentence. Instead, he reached over, put a protective hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. Harry leaned into it, and they stayed motionless for some time.

Snape glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was not long before Harry would need to decide whether he was going to talk to Draco or not.

"Potter," Snape said gently.

Harry looked up.

"It's Harry," he said softly.

Snape didn't quite know what to say to this. To be honest, he was quite taken aback by the sentiment of it. He didn't mention it. "You need to decide whether you are going to talk to Draco. He will be arriving soon, and you need to know what you are going to say," he paused, and looked at Harry.

Snape could see that Harry had no idea what he would say. Hell, Snape didn't think Harry would have ever even _been_ in a situation like this. Girls, and many boys too, tended to fall at his feet. It was so very true to form, however, that he fell for someone who didn't worship him. The fact that people were so in awe of him had always been something Harry wasn't prepared to accept. He had terrible confidence and self-worth issues.

"Just like Draco," Snape said quietly, without thinking.

"Sir?" Harry asked, without moving.

"I was just considering the similarities between yourself and Draco. Despite your differences, you are both very much the same in many ways." Snape was about to continue talking, when a knock resounded at the door. Harry sat up abruptly, and Snape put a hand on his shoulder to settle him.

"Looks like you will have to talk now," Snape said gently.

"Come in, Draco," Snape called out, and summoned a third armchair, and another glass.

Draco walked into the room, and stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced at Snape. "Severus...?" Draco trailed off.

Harry watched as Snape walked over, and hugged Draco. Draco stiffened, looking a little betrayed.

"Severus, why is he here?" Draco asked when Snape stepped back.

Snape sighed. "Draco, sit down. This is a long story."

Draco took the third chair, and tucked his legs up under himself. Harry noted that he looked so fragile sitting like that, like the chair was too big for him. But Harry had to admit, he didn't look any less gorgeous. Snape coughed, and Harry abruptly looked at his shoes.

"He does that all the time, you know," Harry glanced up, to see Draco looking at him. "He cheats, uses his skills to change you. Don't let him," Draco looked angrily at his godfather. "You will regret it."

Snape sighed. "Draco, I am not betraying you. I am probably saving you from an awful lot of grief in this situation. So do something you aren't used to doing and be quiet, and listen."

Draco looked at his godfather, and sighed. "Fine."

Snape looked at Harry to prompt him. The Gryffindor looked down at his feet.

"It always has to be done on your time, doesn't it, Severus?" Draco said acerbically.

"Its not like that, Draco," Severus began. "I just-"

"Its alright," Harry interupted. "He's just trying to help."

Draco looked at Harry, and raised one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows.

"I-" Harry faltered, but only once. "What you said in the corridor, the other day," Harry looked up at Draco. "You weren't wrong."

Draco looked Harry up and down, then paused.

"You…like me?" Draco spoke slowly, calculatedly.

"It is a little more than just like," Harry continued, before looking at Snape, his eyes pleading for a reprieve.

Snape picked up the bottle of whiskey, and poured them each a shot. Draco finished his in one, as did Harry. Snape sipped his slowly.

Nothing was said for a long time. Draco sat in almost perfect stillness; had Harry not known better, he would have sworn someone had cast _petrificus totalus_ on him.

Severus took another sip of his whiskey.

Draco glanced at him. "That isn't like you, Severus, to go slowly. I am pleased you are, however."

Harry looked from Draco to Snape. _"So, __I__ was right,"_ he thought, _"it is more than just stress drinking, if Draco mentions it,"_

"Potter, leave it," Snape said bitterly, and Harry turned an entertaining shade of crimson. "This, after all, isn't about my drinking habits, is it?"

Harry nodded, but Draco didn't. "I told you I wouldn't be the only one to notice," he said cooly, before turning to Harry. "I can't say that I am not flattered, Potter, but I don't know whether I can actually allow myself to get involved with you. There are too many consequences," he opened his mouth to continue, but Harry interupted.

"House colours shouldn't matter here," Harry said angrily, jumping to his feet. "Just because we are in opposing houses? Or is it because I am not enough of a pure-blood for you, is that it?" Harry was fuming. Snape reached out for his hand, but Harry pulled it away. "Don't touch me," he said with feeling, and looked back at Draco. "Fine, if you don't want to try, then fine. You are just scared, because you know we could be fucking amazing, but you are too weak to even try any-"

"Harry, that is enough." Snape walked up to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, and pushed him down into his seat. Harry looked at Draco now, really looked, and saw small tears forming in his eyes. He picked up the whiskey bottle from the table, and left without another word.

Snape sighed, and summoned a second bottle of whiskey. He poured them each a glass. Harry didn't drink his, instead he looked at Snape.

"You called me Harry."

"I figured the shock would make you shut your mouth, Potter," Snape said angrily, and took another shot. "Although, I suppose I cannot complain too much; I did not provide as much support as I should have."

Harry looked at his feet. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but hearing Snape call him by his first name was the first time in a very long time that it had felt like he was worth something.

Snape glanced at Harry, but said nothing.

Suddenly, Snape got up, walked to the door, opened it, and poked his head around it. Harry heard him say something, and then he returned to the room with Draco in tow. _"So, he didn't leave afterall," _Harry thought.

"Now, I think this time we should all try to be a little calmer," Snape said, as he sat Draco back down in his chair. "Draco, it may be best to explain to Potter _why_ you can't start something with him, rather than just telling him," Snape said gently.

Draco sighed. "My father isn't as receptive as the rest of the world," he said finally.

Harry shrugged.

"Does he need to know?" he asked.

Draco laughed. "My father knows everything that goes on in this school, Potter, I doubt the secret would last long."

It was Harry's turn to sigh now. "If you don't like me, you could just tell me you know. I can handle it." He looked at Draco.

"You are practically the definition of what I look for in a man, Potter." He stopped, and looked at Snape. "That is why you asked! Merlin, how was I so _dense_?" Draco shook his head. "I would love to know how you found this out before anyone else, Severus. I really would." Draco turned back to Harry.

"Potter, I like you. You are attractive, and I do enjoy having friendly rivalry between myself and my attachments. But I don't see how it could be possible to make this work easily. I cannot under any circumstances let my father find out about this. I doubt that your friends would receive it well either, particularly after Miss Granger's comment recently. Still...I will consider it, alright? This isn't a yes, and it isn't a declaration of love, or anything ridiculous like that. This is just saying that I will think about it. And, not to be rude, but if you two are finished," he looked between Harry and Severus, "I think I need to have a word with my godfather."

Harry finished his whiskey, and put the glass down. "Sure. I had better be heading back upstairs anyway. I don't suppose either of you know an excuse for smelling like Firewhiskey, do you? Hermione apparently has the nose for it."

"Clarion Roots," Draco said without thinking. Harry looked at him. "A potion ingredient. You really don't study, do you? Clarion roots, when mixed with water, produce a stench like Firewhiskey. Granger will undoubtedly know that, so it won't be too much of a stretch for her to believe."

Harry smiled, and walked towards the door.

"By the way, Potter," Harry stopped and turned to look at Draco. "Nice arse," Draco grinned.

Harry went a little pink, and rushed out the door.

Harry walking back to the Gryffindor tower, Harry's heart was racing, and he couldn't quite make sense of all his thoughts. Certainly, there was elation, and an even stronger longing due to Draco's comments. And apprehension, of what could come of the discussion that they had had.

Yet also he felt a seed of sadness weighing heavy in his chest. Thinking of it now, he knew what he had felt when Snape used his first name. It was the same way he felt when Sirius had said it. This realisation also brought guilt tumbling down on the dark haired boy, as the bitterness between his godfather and the potions' master was well known; comparing feelings between the two seemed like a breach of trust, on both sides.

As he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry breathed a heavy sigh.

Draco whirled around and looked at Severus, who raised his hands in surrender. "Don't kill me," he said with a grin.

Draco slumped down in his chair, and sighed.

"Draco, I think this would be good for you." Severus Transfigured the chair Draco was sitting on into a couch, and sat next to him. "Draco, you need someone you can be close to, someone whom you can trust with yourself. It is important. I know that this could be dangerous for you, but I think the benefits outweigh that here. Harry Potter is about the only person in this castle with whom you would be safe with, and about the only person who doesn't want you for your family's money or your name. He just wants you for you. And I know that you don't dislike him," Severus put an arm around Draco, who leaned into him.

"I do want him, Severus. You know that. I know all of what you said. Nevertheless, I am so scared of what could happen if it didn't remain private."

The teacher took his student's hand, and squeezed it. "Go to bed, Draco. Think this over. You might have a different point of view in the morning,"

Draco stood, and looked at his godfather. "I really am pleased that you have slowed down a little," he said, inclining his head towards the table where the bottles of whiskey sat. "Good night, Severus."

As Draco left the room, Severus looked at his feet, not wanting to face those all-too-knowing eyes that his godson had.


	4. Chapter 4

When Harry arrived back at the common-room, he found Ron sitting up playing chess against himself. Ron glanced up as Harry walked in.

"Hey. Hermione went to bed, so you don't have to worry about an interrogation from her," he said, before turning back to his game. Harry could see that Ron was angry, so he wandered over and pulled an armchair up opposite Ron.

Ron didn't look up. "You have been keeping something from us, Harry. I have waited for you to tell me, and waited to see whether you were just trying to work out how to tell me, but you have been acting like this for weeks now. It is concerning Hermione, and me." He looked up at Harry, and the sadness in his eyes betrayed the calm in his voice. "You know that if you don't want to be friends, you don't have to."

Harry was shocked, and furious with himself that he let Ron think such awful things. "Ron, of course I want to be friends with you. You are my best friend, I care about you, and I trust you. I have just had...issues lately, and I haven't been able to work them out in my own head, let alone try to explain them to anyone." Harry paused. That wasn't entirely truthful, as he had been able to talk to Snape about the issues without hesitation.

He looked up, and saw Ron watching him. "Ron, I do want to talk to you about what has been going on with me, but I have no idea how to even begin to tell you what it is. And it has slowly been destroying me that I haven't been able to talk to you."

Ron shrugged. "Whatever, mate," he said, bitterly.

Harry felt anger well up inside him. "You don't believe me?" he said acidly.

"In all honesty, Harry? No, I don't. There has never been anything that we didn't talk about. Now you turn around and say there is something that you don't know how to explain? You don't need to know how to explain it to start the damn conversation! Plus, I want to know the truth behind the thing you said to Hermione about the Fire Whiskey. She might not be able to tell the difference between a couple of mouthfuls and a hell of a lot more, but I can. Where did you go to get Fire Whiskey? Been sneaking off to some corner of the castle to get pissed have you?"

At this point, Harry lost all patience with Ron.

"You know what, Ron? You are being a complete and utter prick. I am allowed to do what ever the hell I want in my life, and I don't have to explain it to you. As you are so concerned, I will tell you, even though I don't think you will receive it well." Harry's voice was rising, and he could feel his cheeks colouring with anger. A small part of his brain, the remaining part that wasn't furious, also wished the floor would swallow him up, before he said anything he'd regret.

"I haven't had detentions for the last few days, but I have been going to see Snape. He and I have been having drinks recently, because I have made the unpleasant realisation that I have feelings for Malfoy! He is Snape's godson, did you know that? That is why I keep coming back, smelling like Fire Whiskey. Turns out that having that sort of conversation with your Potions professor requires a little lubrication before either of you will feel comfortable."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. "No, Ron, you can wait until I have finished talking before you retort. Having forced me to talk, you will wait until I am done! Snape and I have actually become what one would call friends, as he is concerned for Draco's well-being in this whole mess. Tonight I actually spoke to Draco about it. He was worried about his father finding out, but he said he will think about going out with me.

"And, did you know that Snape appears to have a drinking problem? Draco confirmed my suspicions when I was there. The weird thing is that I am actually _worried_ about him. Since Sirius died, I haven't had an adult to talk to about anything. While you and Hermione are wonderful friends, I need someone with a little more experience than the pair of you. He might have treated us like crap for our entire school career, but for the moment, he seems completely genuine in his...well, I wouldn't say affections. The crazy thing about all of this? I don't want what I have with Snape to stop. So, if you have a problem with that, you had better bloody say so now!"

Harry breathed out heavily, and then in again. He hadn't realised that saying that much in one go would take as much out of him as it did. He looked at Ron, with most of his fury still visible on his features.

"Wow," Ron said finally. "I didn't think it was humanly possible to talk that much without breathing a little more."

Harry looked at him with surprise. Ron smiled. "Right, now that you don't have that awful scowl on your face, am I allowed to reply?" Harry nodded.

"Good. Harry, why didn't you just _talk_ to me? You wouldn't have even needed to explain the whole thing. Telling me you are having issues only leads me to believe that they are scar related issues. Not relationship ones. Had you said 'Oh, I am just having some feelings for someone weird, don't worry' it would have meant I wasn't worried for your safety. I mean, yes, I would have hassled you to find out who it was, but as in the past, I won't force you to tell me things about your relationships that you don't want to. As for talking to Snape, I am bloody proud of you for finally allowing yourself to trust someone like that again. Since Sirius died you have been a mess, even with how much time has passed. You wouldn't talk to Dumbledore, or anyone else that we suggested. Hell, I sometimes wished Hedwig could talk, due to the fact that you seemed to do most of your talking to her. I mean, sure, Snape wouldn't have been on my list of people, since he's a complete git, but if you have formed a friendship with him, then I won't prevent you from pursuing it." He paused.

"Even if I do think it's a stupid idea to be friends with him. You know he probably has some ulterior motives, right?" Harry nodded, dryly. He'd forgotten how long Ron could hold a grudge for.

"Good. At least now I will stop being angry with him for giving you so many detentions!" Ron laughed. "As for Malfoy, well, I can't say it is a surprise. You talk in your sleep, you know?"

Harry stared at Ron wide-eyed, and went an impressive shade of red. "I...do?" he stammered.

"Yeah, you do. It didn't take me long to figure it out. I mean, well, we aren't best friends for nothing." He sat forward, and looked at Harry. "Before you ask, no, I haven't told Hermione. I knew that it was obviously something that was affecting you badly, but I wanted you to come tell me yourself. I guess that is why I felt so betrayed when you didn't, like you thought I would be ashamed of you."

Harry looked down at his knees. "I sort of did think that. I didn't know how you would take it, and I didn't want to risk our friendship ending over it. I figured I would just hide it forever if necessary so we didn't have to stop being friends..." he trailed off.

Ron was openly shocked. "You would hide that entire side of yourself just to keep me as a friend? I don't know whether to be horrified or flattered." Ron smiled at Harry. "I could never be ashamed of you. Especially when you have never been ashamed of me, no matter how many stupid stunts I have pulled." He grinned, and then asked, if a little too eagerly, "So, how on earth did you end up telling Snape, of all people?"

Harry laughed, and retold Ron the story, who by the end of it was nearly falling out of his seat from laughing so much. "My God, I wish I could have seen his face," he chuckled, and then indicated the stairwell across the room from them. Footsteps could be heard coming down them, and Hermione appeared in the doorway.

"You two can be heard laughing throughout the entire tower. What on _earth_ is so funny?"

Ron grinned. "Harry was cleaning the classroom again, and he found a note under one of the desks. Some first year thinks that Snape is sexy." He grinned, and glanced at Harry. "Tell her what the note said."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, then turned to Hermione. "It was so funny. It goes on and on about how sexy he looks in black, and that he should wear his hair tied back sometimes, because she thinks it would be even more sexy, and then went on about how sexy his voice is. It was freaking hilarious."

Hermione giggled, then sat down next to Harry, and sniffed. "Harry...Fire whiskey again?" She looked at him, concerned.

"Not this time, I think he realised I had found his stash and moved it. I had to clean out some old jars, they used to have Clarion Root in them, so now I smell like I've been down to the Three Broomsticks!"

Hermione gave him an odd look. "I didn't know you had actually done any study lately, Harry," she said, in a slightly disbelieving tone, but smiled. Then she pulled out a deck of cards. "Exploding snap, anyone?"

Draco did not sleep that night. Lying awake, he couldn't help but think about Harry, and what he had told him that evening. He was flattered that Harry liked him, of course. Harry could have anyone in the entire school because of who he was, but yet he still went for the one person that wouldn't be easy for him to have. Draco had to admit: that took some serious balls.

The worst part, Draco had decided, was the fact that he was so concerned about what his father would think. He had always found Harry extremely attractive, but he wasn't sure he could risk his life over it. It was just a relationship, after all.

"_Well, that isn't strictly true,"_ he thought to himself. _"I __have had feelings for him since bloody second year. If only it wasn't so hard to resist him."_ Draco sighed, and went to sit in the common-room with the rest of his year.

When he arrived, only Crabbe and Goyle were still up. He sat down on a couch opposite them, and said nothing. Crabbe elbowed Goyle.

"He's got tha' look on his face again," he said with a grin. Goyle looked over, and nodded.

"Tha's his Harry Potter look," Goyle agreed.

Draco glanced up at them, and glared. "What 'look' exactly are you talking about?"

The pair looked at each other, and proceeded to try to mimic Draco's apparent facial expression.

After some time, they both shrugged, and gave up. Crabbe spoke first.

"It's the look you get when you're thinkin' 'bout Potter," he said with a shrug.

"I do not think about Harry Bloody Potter," Draco retorted.

"Yeah, you do," Goyle said, "You talk 'bout him all the time, an' you stare at him when he goes past, an' you talk 'bout him in your sleep, an'- OUCH!" he rubbed his side where Crabbe had elbowed him violently. Draco looked at him wide-eyed.

"I have a separate room, Goyle. How would you have heard me talking about him in my sleep?" Draco said, having recovered his composure.

"Uh, well..." Crabbe looked at him. "You started doin' it when we roomed together in second year. We jus' never mentioned it, 'cause we figured tha' you wouldn' want to talk 'bout it. So, we figure you still do it," he glanced at Goyle, who looked hurt. "Sorry for elbowing ya', jus' you were gonna upset him."

"'S okay," Goyle said, and rubbed his side.

Draco looked at his hands. He had to give these two credit. Normally they couldn't seem to work out what way their clothes went on, let alone anything more complex.

Goyle was still rubbing his side. "Goyle, go and get that looked at," Draco said sternly, then looked at Crabbe. "You know you need to be more careful; you are stronger than you think sometimes!"

After Goyle had shuffled off, Draco looked at his feet. "So, you know then?"

Crabbe shrugged. "I know you talk 'bout him in your sleep, an' I know tha' you have been worried 'bout somethin'...I would be lying if I said tha' I didn' think they were connected," he said eventually.

"By Merlin, you normally can't work your way out of a paper bag. How have you managed to work this out?"

Crabbe shrugged again. "Not supposed to tell you tha'," he said. Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "Snape," Crabbe grunted after a while.

Draco sighed. He wasn't all that surprised. If he took the time to explain it to Crabbe, Severus really did think this was a good thing.

"He worries 'bout you," Crabbe said softly, and Draco looked up at him, surprised. "He is always telling us how we have to look after you, an' how we have to make sure nothin' happens to you. He worries." Crabbe looked at his shoes. "An' I am not as stupid as you make me out to be."

Draco was surprised. He hadn't realised that Crabbe felt like that. "I'm sorry, Vince. I didn't mean to hurt you," he said earnestly. Crabbe shrugged.

"Its safer this way. If I seem stupid, I won' have to worry 'bout the Dark Lord wanting me to help him, 'cause I don' seem like I could," Crabbe said quietly.

Draco understood completely. He himself had always excelled at everything, so he looked incredibly helpful to the Dark Lord's cause. There had been talk that he would be needed for something. He wished that his parents had the same sense as Vince's, to have made him seem stupid, to protect him. Not that his father wanted him to be protected...

"You're worried 'bout your dad, aren' you," Crabbe said gently.

"Well perceived, Vince," Draco said bitterly, then regretted it. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"'S' alright," he said, "I know you don' wan' to talk 'bout it, but if you ever do, you know where I am," he said, and stood up. "I'm gonna head to bed. Sleep well, Draco."

"Night, Vince," Draco watched him leave the room, then slumped down in his chair. He just didn't know what to do. After a moment or two he stood, and returned to his room.

He rummaged through his desk drawer, until he found a small vial. He wandered to his bed, and kicked off his jeans, pulling his jersey over his head as he did so. Crawling between the covers, he sighed, opened the vial, and drank. The Dreamless Sleep was tasteless, and within a moment his eyes closed, his breathing slowed, and sleep overpowered his tired mind.

Harry woke early, even though he, Ron and Hermione had played cards until the wee hours of the morning. He was feeling nervous, even though he didn't really think that he would see Draco today. They didn't have class today. It was a Saturday, so he wouldn't have to see him. Pulling back his curtains, Harry saw that Ron was still asleep, judging by the closed curtains. Harry checked the time; it was almost breakfast, so he walked over to Ron's bed and called through the curtains.

"Ron, come on. Get up."

There was a groan from the curtains, and Ron poked his head around the heavy fabric. "Go away," he said sleepily.

"Come on, Ron. Food! Get up," Harry said again. Ron opened the curtains, and swung his legs over the edge of his bed.

"You are worse than my mother," Ron said as he stretched.

Harry grinned, "Come on, you." He threw Ron's jeans at him, "I will meet you in the common room, 'kay?"

Ron nodded dumbly, and Harry left the room. When he got into the common-room, Ginny waved at him from a seat by the window. Wandering over, Harry wondered where Hermione was, as she was usually up by now.

"She isn't feeling well." Ginny answered his un-asked question. "Apparently she had a wee bit too much to drink when you guys were playing cards last night," Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. Harry had figured that Hermione wasn't as strong a drinker as he and Ron, but she had seemed to be keeping up when they were playing.

Ron appeared from the tower, looking a little frazzled. "It is too bright," he groaned, and wandered over to hug his sister. "Don't let me drink again," he pleaded to Harry over Ginny's head.

Harry laughed. "How come I am the only one who isn't feeling awful?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "More practice, perhaps?"

Harry glared at him, then indicated the door. "Shall we?"

"I have to wait for Parvati, I will see you down there," Ginny replied, and went back to her book.

Once they had left the common-room, Harry stopped. "More practice?" he asked with disbelief.

"Yeah," Ron said confused.

"You make it seem like I am a complete alcoholic!" Harry said, taken aback.

"Mate, don't worry. I didn't mean it in a bad way. You have just been drinking a lot lately, what with seeing Snape and all that..." Ron trailed off as he heard footsteps. They continued down to the Great Hall, and as they walked into the main entrance way they saw Draco, Crabbe and Goyle walking in as well. Harry smiled at Draco, who turned on his heel sharply, and returned to the dungeons.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron said gently. "He will come around soon. I am sure that for someone who flies your side of the pitch, you are quite a catch." Ron grinned at Harry, and slung his arm around him. "Come on, take me to this food you promised!"

When Draco saw Harry in the entrance way, he panicked. He hadn't prepared himself to see him, which is what scared him the most. He hated to leave himself open and vulnerable; he wouldn't be taken off guard. So, in the most undignified fashion, he ran away.

When he reached his common-room door, Snape was just walking out of it.

"Draco?" Severus questioned, looking a little concerned.

Draco leaned against a wall, and tried to regain his breath. Instead of answering, he just wheezed at Snape. "Just look already."

With the invitation, Severus looked into Draco's latest memory. He sighed, and directed Draco to his office, which was a short walk away.

"Did you think about it last night?" Severus said as he sat down.

Draco nodded. "What is with you explaining all of this to Vince?"

Severus smiled sadly. "He is your friend, Draco. I knew you wouldn't tell him yourself, and he needed to know, in case..." he trailed off, and Draco nodded.

"_If anything happened_," Draco thought. "Severus, I just don't know. I can't even stand to face him now, which is worse than anything. I can't live hiding from him all the time. It isn't acceptable in the least. I want him, oh, by Merlin do I want him, but I don't know whether I can. I don't know whether I can actually risk myself like that."

Severus sighed. "Draco, you need to. You need to risk yourself so that you have someone to care for, to love, and to be loved by," Draco opened his mouth, but Severus spoke first. "Draco, I mean someone who isn't me." He took Draco's hand in his. Wandlessly a couch appeared, and they sat. Draco did not to look at his godfather. Snape could tell he was furious. "Draco, you need someone more than me. Someone who can care for you when I can't. Who you can have a family with, and grow old with. I won't live forever, Draco." He paused, and Draco sighed.

"I know. I want all of what you said, but my mind screams at me that this would be a bad idea. Other than the obvious issues, there are the ones pertaining to where loyalties lie. Even if my father didn't find out, it would be a little apparent when I refused to follow him to the Dark Lord's side when the time came." Severus squeezed Draco's hand, if a little too hard.

"Draco, I will never let you get yourself into that situation. No godson of mine will make the same mistake I made in my youth and live to regret it, as I have," he said, unconsciously glancing at his left arm.

Draco looked at the door. "I have to go."

Severus nodded.

Draco stood to leave. "For the record, I do have other people to lean on," he said bitterly, and left.

As the door closed Severus sighed. He had never actually told Draco that he loved him, which now he realised shouldn't have surprised him. He wasn't exactly known for his prolific displays of emotions. However it did concern him a little that he didn't tell Draco it often. The boy had enough problems without fearing that he wasn't cared for.

Draco left Severus feeling little better than he had when he had arrived. He was still uncertain as to what he was going to do about the whole situation. He did feel slightly relieved that, it being a Saturday, with no class to attend, he had time to think.

Or act.

As he reached the main entranceway, he saw Harry and Ron leaving the Great Hall. Probably headed towards the pitch, he guessed. They didn't see him, and turned towards the main doors.

Draco racked his brain. He had better come up with a plan soon, as they would leave at any moment.

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco briskly walked up behind Harry, and tapped him on the shoulder. As soon as the Gryffindor turned around, Draco took the dark, tangled locks between his hands, closed his eyes, and kissed him.

"_Fuck," _thought Draco._ "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." _His brain was screaming at him that he had just done something incredibly stupid, that Weasley was standing there open-mouthed, and that they were in the middle of a public space.

Then he felt Harry's lips under his open ever so slightly, and Draco felt something wet and warm glide up against his tongue. The sensation made Draco weak at the knees.

After what felt like a century, they pulled apart. Harry was grinning like the cat that got the canary, and Draco himself had turned a rather fetching shade of scarlet. Neither said anything.

"So, looks like you got your answer then," Ron said finally. Draco looked from Harry to Ron and back again.

"He knows?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "He knows."

"Ah." Draco paused. "At least that saves me from a rather complicated explanation. So...any comments?" he asked in his most dignified manner.

Ron chuckled. "Nah, Malfoy. You're all right by me as long as you are by Harry. Still...hurt him, and you had better run."

Draco smirked. "You gonna chase me, Weasley?"

It was Ron's turn to smirk. "Not me. Weasley's look after their own. My mother loves Harry to bits," he said slyly.

Draco turned paler than normal. "Touché, sir. Touché."

Harry grinned. "Glad to see you guys will get along then," he said, and reached out for Draco's hand.

Draco pulled away, then stopped. Harry's face was awash with confusion.

Draco looked into Harry's face. "Shit," he murmured, and turned on his heel. Harry watched as his back receded towards the dungeons.

Harry's shoulder's slumped, and Ron put a hand on his back. "Maybe I should buy _you_ some running shoes?" he said with an audible grin, and gave Harry a shove. Taking the hint, Harry tore off after Draco.

Draco was easy to follow when he was distressed. He didn't notice the almost-silent footfalls behind him, even though he usually would have. Rounding the corner to Snape's office, Draco knocked once. Behind him, barely hidden by a column, Harry stood motionless, waiting for the door to open.

Severus opened the door, and looked at his godson, surprise evident on his pale features.

"I just did something incredibly stupid," Draco said finally. Severus sighed, and waved Draco into the room.

"Are you coming?" Severus asked, and Draco turned to him, confused. Then he saw Harry walking up to the door.

Draco groaned, and flopped down onto a couch.

Severus put his face in his hands. "You didn't know he was there?"

Draco sighed, and buried his face into a cushion. "I don't know what is more embarrassing – the stupid thing I did, or the fact I didn't realise you were following me."

Harry grinned. "It wasn't my idea to, but Ron talked me into it,"

Severus sighed, and looked between the two boys. "Well, I have tests to mark. Draco, you got yourself into this one, and you can get yourself out of it," he said finally, and walked into the classroom.

Harry sat down on the end of the couch not occupied by Draco, who didn't move. Harry had to admit, that the Slytherin looked rather fetching, his hair mussed up from hiding in the pillow, a blush creeping up the back of his neck...it made Harry wondered how far down that blush went.

"I don't suppose we can just forget I did that?" Draco said into the pillow.

Harry laughed. "Nope,"

"I figured as much," Draco said with a sigh, and sat up. He looked at Harry, then grinned. "The look on Weasley's face was priceless, it really was."

Harry smiled, but Draco could see that he was still hurting from before. Sighing, Draco looked at his shoes.

"I am sorry about before. Not the kissing, that was good, but the running away. I just didn't know what to do. I haven't ever been in a situation like this before..." he trailed off.

"A situation like what?" Harry asked slowly, continuing to worry that Draco didn't actually want any of this.

"A situation where the person I like isn't the person I should," Draco said finally. "I am not supposed to like...you. Or people with your...physical make-up."

"So, you aren't supposed to fall for the poster boy of Gryffindor, savior of the Wizarding world, and you aren't supposed to fall for a guy?" Harry said with a laugh. "You think I am _supposed_ to fall for the god of Slytherin pride, son to probably the most loyal Death-Eater there is?"

Draco didn't say anything, and just scuffed his shoes against the stone floor.

"Draco," Harry said gently, "I know that this is hard for you, but I am not exactly in familiar skies here either. Just talk to me, would you?"

Draco sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to start conversations like these. I want to be with you, I really do, I just don't know how we would see each other, what with the differences between our houses. There are other issues at hand too, ones that I can't see a way around in all honesty."

Harry grinned. "Well, arranging how to see each other wouldn't be all that difficult. I have never really had a forté for the rules, so I personally have no qualms about sneaking around."

Draco looked at Harry for the first time since they had sat down. "I know, Harry. But there is more to this than just how we will arrange it." He stopped, and looked back at his shoes again.

Harry reached out, and put a hand on his shoulder. Draco stiffened a little, but Harry didn't take his hand away. After a moment, Draco leaned over, and rested his head on Harry's shoulder.

"I know there are other things, Draco. If you want to just not go out...We can do that, if it is easier for you."

Draco scuffed his shoes against the floor. Harry caressed his hair gently.

"Give me tonight," Draco said finally. "Give me tonight to think about it. Meet me at the pitch, tomorrow, at midnight. I will have your answer then." He sat up, straightened his shirt, and stood up.

"Tomorrow, then," Harry said, watching Draco leave the room in silence.


End file.
